He was so still, he could already have been dead for all I knew.
I put my ear to his chest. In the quiet, I could make out the slow, steady thump of his heart. I knew that as long as I could hear that, there was still a chance to save him.
In repose, his usually animated mouth was relaxed. His lips were not too thick, not too thin; they were just right. Chiseled. Hard. Manly. Perfect.
I reached out and touched the tip of my finger to them, tracing the smooth contour. Impulsively, I leaned forward and pressed my mouth to his.
The intoxicating smell that was distinctively Bo’s flooded my nostrils and washed over my senses. My throat clenched. The prospect of no longer smelling that scent was unthinkable.
I leaned back, just enough to lick my lips. I thought I might be able to taste him, but I couldn’t. I wanted to take it in, take a part of him into myself, to hide it away for safekeeping. I wanted something of him that I never had to let go, something that would never fade or die.
I closed my eyes against the tears that threatened and pressed my lips to his once more.
A sob shook me and my lips moved against Bo’s. When it passed, I still felt movement beneath me. I gasped. Bo’s lips were stirring under mine, ever so slightly. I increased the pressure and, much to my relief, Bo responded, deepening the kiss.
By his fervor, or lack thereof, it was evident that he was still weak, but he was alive, alive enough to curl my toes and make me remember why I’d risk my life to save him, even for one more day.
My eyes flew open when the significance of his kiss fully penetrated my mind. He was awake. If he was awake, he could feed.
Pulling back just enough to break contact, I said, “Bo, you need to feed and I want you to drink from me.”
Bo groaned and shook his head in one firm motion. He was resisting.
“Please, Bo. I want you to.” I kissed him again, hoping to draw him in with passion. “Please,” I sighed into his mouth.
His breathing increased, becoming more ragged, but still he resisted. “No,” he whispered.
“Bo, you will die if you don’t feed. I know it’s going to happen eventually, but please don’t leave me yet. Please. I’m begging you. I want you to drink from me. I want to be bonded with you forever. I want to feel you when you’re gone. At least give me that. Please.”
When I pressed my lips to Bo’s this time, I was taking the proverbial gloves off. I put my hand on his chest and leaned up, sinking into the kiss. I let my tongue slide between his lips and glide over the silky interior of his mouth. I reveled in the sweet taste of him.
Again, he kissed me back. Not exactly vigorously, but it was enough to let me know that he was quickly coming back to the land of the living.
“Bo,” I moaned, tearing my lips from his.
Scooting up over him, I straddled his hips, crushing my breasts to his chest and pressing my throat to his mouth.
“Bite me, Bo. Please. Take it.”
My heart was booming inside me and I was suspended between desire and fear, a very heady combination. Every sense, every nerve, was tightly focused on Bo and his mouth.
When I felt his lips open and his tongue touch the flesh of my neck, I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out. My skin was hypersensitive and his cool tongue felt like ice—smooth, sensual, wet ice. My belly trembled with want.
“Please,” I whimpered, shifting on top of him, craving the contact, the friction of his body against mine.
An instant before he gave in, I knew I’d won. I felt it somewhere deep inside me, like he was coming home, and I was his home. There was a flash of utter completion, of perfect peace right before I felt the sharp pinch of his teeth piercing my flesh.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Sweet pain swept through me, a hurt so good that I never wanted it to end. For a moment, it was as if Bo and I were one person. I could feel his pleasure—the thrill of the bite, the ecstasy of the blood—as if they were my own, and I gave myself over to it, sinking into him.
I wasn’t aware of how I got onto the floor, onto my back, but when I opened my eyes, I saw the ceiling and Bo was on top of me. His body rested atop mine, his hips between my open thighs. His lips were at my neck and my hands were fisted in his hair. I held on tight, willing him not to stop, my body begging him for more.
Bo began to move, shifting and rubbing against me, pressing into me where our hips met. Husky noises of passion purred in his throat and tingled along my skin. Little pulses of electricity streaked through my body, setting my core on fire.
I was growing warmer by the second, melty, and my head was getting fuzzy. I opened my eyes and my vision swam in a hazy blur. I shut them to drown out the sights. I wanted only to concentrate on Bo and his mouth and all that he was making me feel.
Unbidden, the hair that I clutched at the back of his head slid through my fingers. My arms were falling, falling, falling until I heard the thump of them hitting the carpet at my side. They landed on a bed of cotton that cushioned them. It cradled my entire body, holding me in a sea of softness. I tried to lift my arms, to recapture Bo inside them, but they refused to obey my commands. The cotton, with its wispy fibers, held them firmly in place.
One delicate strand at a time, the cotton wove its way inside my head and around my body, stealing the air from the room, smothering it in flimsy filaments. It was growing harder and harder to breathe, but I was so comfortable, it was even harder to care.
More content than I could ever remember being, I stopped resisting. With a sigh, I relaxed back into the puffy cloud and let it take me, swallow me, consume me.
********
I awoke some time later with the sweet comfort of Bo’s scent surrounding me. I opened my eyes and turned my head. I was lying in my bed and Bo was next to me. He was turned up on his side, his head in his hand, staring down at me. He was so close I could feel his body pressed along every inch of my left side.
We lay on top of the covers, but I had no need of them. Bo’s body was feverish, more than enough to keep me warm in the cool of the night.
“Lucius said to tell you that he enjoyed meeting you. He was very impressed with you.” Bo leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially. “Between us, I think he has a little bit of a crush.”